


The Heartland Prophecies: A Thiarna déan Trócaire

by whovianlord



Category: Celtic Thunder (Band)
Genre: F/M, Magic, betrothal, gypsies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-04-23 18:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianlord/pseuds/whovianlord
Summary: Based on Celtic Thunder Storm.Alaidhrm Ó’Braonáin is the youngest daughter of the King of Airgíalla and is betrothed to a Prince from a neighbouring kingdom. When she runs away from her commitment to him, she is taken to his kingdom to protect her from her family. There she comes across a village at war with gypsies and finds herself in the middle of a prophecy that will change her life forever.





	1. Desperado

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Long time no speak.
> 
> This is the story I’ve been developing for over five years based on my lifeblood, Celtic Thunder. It’s just one of those things that refused to let me go, unlike hundreds of other stories which I wrote in a burst of passion and then quickly burnt the next day. For some reason, this one refused to move. It just stayed there. So eventually, I gave up and started writing it down.
> 
> I can’t guarantee any quality in this writing. It’s still very much a working progress. My mind doesn’t seem to want to stay to a definite story, it just wants to change everything periodically. This also hasn’t been betaed, so please be nice.
> 
> As always, all comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.
> 
> \- Mirella xx
> 
> WARNING - There is abuse in this chapter. If you’re triggered by this, you have been warned. Also, there will be mentions of gypsies throughout the story and they will become a major plot point much later in proceedings. I know that gypsies are an actual people with their own unique culture and I mean no offence to them with whatever I write in this story. Everything mentioned is entirely fabricated or based on Celtic Thunder’s depiction of them.

Everyman had expected greatness of Alaidhrm Ó’Braonáin, although no one would dare admit to it now. Born the youngest daughter of the King of Airgíalla, she was thought to have everything in her favour and was heralded, like her sisters before her, as the jewel of the kingdom. Now fifteen, she was considered to be in the final stages of blossoming into the woman it was promised she would become. However, this came with the expectation of marriage, which in Alaidhrm’s mind meant certain misery.

The king also disagreed with the urgency to marry his youngest daughter, but for vastly different reasons. He was physically failing. Years of fighting against the uprisings of gypsies had taken its toll and some gentle company would have served him well in his decline. If Alaidhrm did marry however, he wouldn't have been completely void of company - he did have a queen after all. But, the queen did not have a gentle heart and had her own ideas about what was to be done with Alaidhrm; marry her off to the highest bidder and ship her like invaluable cargo to her wedding bed. 

On the eve of Saint Valentine’s, the king was preparing to hold court in a private chamber. It was today that he intended to announce his youngest daughter’s eligibility for marriage. He had already received numerous letters from various lords expressing their interest but, in their doing so, had already ruled themselves out. Any imbecile could get married, so any lord who had gained so little female attention in his life that he had to write to his king asking permission to access his fifteen-year-old daughter clearly had a major fault. In any case, far more than some families could say for their offspring, it was a sign that she was sought after.

The queen, of course, was delighted with the requests. Which fifteen-year-old wouldn't want to know that they were found appealing by Lord Whitewood, a man in his late sixties with more illegitimate children than measurable acts of kindness or curtesy? She thought he was perfectly respectable and had often spoken with her husband about announcing Alaidhrm’s eligibility sooner so that other such worthy gentlemen could come forward.

"It is high time that we arranged for Alaidhrm to be married off, my dear,” she would announce suddenly.

The king would chuckle and shuffle his papers accordingly, pretending to put things away and pull things out which related to whatever she was to rant about. The irony was, if it was ‘high time’ that something happened, it meant that he either had to agree with his wife’s views or die for wanting an opinion. In any case, even if he had made no indication at all that he had heard her, the queen would continue.

“Our daughter has been flirting with the idea of independence for far too long and you do everything to encourage her.”

“You will not harm her,” he would warn. “Touch her without my say so and there will be hell to pay.”

The queen would then stamp around like a child having a tantrum and use her endless layers of skirts to make a grand show of her frustrated pacing, but that would be the end of it. However, today she decided to press the issue. She knew that proposals of marriage had already been sent to her husband and that his intent to marry Alaidhrm was being announced to the court. In short, the queen was determined to have her say.

“Do not make it public,” she snapped. “If we announce across the nine kingdoms that we are considering proposals, our _darling_ daughter will be required to acknowledge the proposals, which will, in turn, force her to accept one. She would not be majorly harmed in the process, of course, and Neilan, once crowned, would have no jurisdiction over her, but I know for a fact that none of the men who have written to you are good enough for her.”

The king’s head snapped to attention. Growling, he stood and threw his papers at his wife. That was low, even for her, and they had been married some thirty-five years. She gasped as he grabbed at her neck, strangling her with the strength and precision of the famed warrior he once was. Despite his age, he still had the strength to snap her fragile neck, but through experience knew enough control to leave her slightly breathless and discouraged from questioning him again.

“Our son will not wrong her.”

The queen grabbed her husband’s shoulders and pulled him towards her. Instead of strangling her from an arm’s length away, he now had no choice but to stare into her soul. The pain of his actions were sparkling there. 

“That is what you focus on? Fine, have it your way.” She struggled against his grip. “He is _your_ son, Tryant,” she said slowly, pointedly. “I will never accept him and I deny the law that makes him any son of mine.”

The king released his wife from his grasp and she fell to the floor gasping for air. Grunting with approval, he returned to his seat. Neilan had always been a sore point in their marriage as he was not the queen’s son. Instead, he was the result of a mistress the king had previously admired, but had been forced to part ways with when the queen had found out. To make everything worse, as first-born and only son of the king, Neilan had been named Crown Prince of Airgíalla. This had left Sophia, Alaidhrm’s elder sister and oldest legitimate child of the king and queen, with little future and a sudden urgency to find a husband.

“He is your son by marriage and heir to the throne. You commit treason against him and I would willingly dispense of you.”

The king, sure that his wife would reply but not caring for whatever nonsense she eventually came up with, returned to reading and rereading the few pages of letters and correspondence that had survived being thrown at her. That is, until a small voice disrupted his forced pastime.

“Your Majesties?”

The king glared at the emerging figure. The queen snapped her head towards the small voice and sighed in relief. A servant boy, clearly intimidated by whatever he had heard of the conversation, tiptoed from behind a hidden door in the far corner of the room and into clear view. He wore the standard uniform of a private household servant: a white shirt and black trousers with black vest. The blue lining of the vest, indicating he was a servant within the queen’s quarters, was slightly frayed and showed over the collar and stuck out under the bottom. 

“Court is ready to begin, Your Majesties,” he said shakily. 

The king, knowing the severity of what the boy had just probably witnessed, smiled gently and waved his hand dismissively. He would have to show him some extra kindness later to avoid this becoming public gossip. The servant scrambled backwards to leave, but the queen lunged forward and wrapped herself around his legs.

“Your Majesty?” the servant squeaked.

The queen used the boy as a ballast to right herself while Tryant shook his head in disgust and moved to arrest her.

“Leave her, boy. You are of far greater breeding.”

The queen just stared through her husband and accepted defeat, for now. He took her pained silence as an acceptable time to leave.

“With me, my boy,” he said to the servant. “You serve me now.”

The king marched into court and the servant boy, having no choice but to comply with his new master, scrambled to detach the queen from his body and catch up with his long strides. The court, not knowing the events that had just occurred and disturbed by the sight of a servant boy entering court as an equal with the king, had little time to compose themselves before they were personally addressed.

“My lords, my ladies. I apologise for the delay. I was otherwise detained by the queen. I doubt I would wake tomorrow with my head if I were to keep her waiting.”

The court laughed on cue with a few cries of “long live the queen” heard from the more raucous courtiers. Alaidhrm, late to court herself, smiled as she slipped through another hidden side door and hastily ran to kneel at her father's feet.

“Which,” the king continued, waving for his daughter to stand, “leads me to the first order of business and a rather exciting announcement. We are now accepting proposals of marriage for my youngest daughter, Princess Alaidhrm Ó’Braonáin. Any and all men here and in all nine kingdoms are to be considered, so please, do not hesitate to make your intentions known.”

Instantly, the court erupted in noise of lords loudly declaring their passionate love for her. Most were jesting to win favour with the king, however a few had quickly moved to surround her and were attempting to steal her affections. Alaidhrm looked to her father for help, but saw that the queen had joined court. She wrapped herself around her husband and made a show of whispering to him. Alaidhrm felt sick. 

“Pretend to faint and I’ll get you out of here,” a voice behind her whispered.

Alaidhrm turned and saw the young servant boy who had been taken from the queen’s service by the king. She looked at him questioningly, not knowing his part in what had happened a few moments earlier and not knowing why he was standing on the royal dais, but nodded her head slightly and started to sway and stagger from side to side. The lords that surrounded her stepped away in alarm as she lurched her body forward before rolling her eyes backward and falling into the servant’s arms. He lifted her over his shoulder and, without daring to look behind him at the outraged expression of the king, queen, and sexually frustrated lords, raced her through the servant's door and away from the commotion behind them. He didn’t even have time to consider putting Alaidhrm down as their escape was halted by a voice that had seemingly followed them.

“What are you doing with my sister?”

The servant stumbled over his legs, almost dropping his precious cargo as he turned towards the voice. Before him stood the eldest daughter of the king: Princess Sophia MacDurcan.

“Princess! Please forgive me,” he begged, awkwardly bowing. “She lost consciousness during court and has not recovered. I was going to place her in the care of her maids.”

Sophia reached out and took Alaidhrm away from him and lay her on the floor between them. Alaidhrm, not wanting to be in more trouble than she already would be for leaving court, even under the guise of illness, kept pretending to be unconscious. If her sister believed that she was genuinely sick, then she would help to convince the king and queen.

“I fail to see why you took it upon yourself to help her, although I probably should be grateful if no one else did. What is your name?”

“Daniel,” he replied.

“Well, Daniel. I thank you. You are dismissed.”

The young servant bowed and raced away to return to court, leaving the two sisters alone. Sophia knelt down next to Alaidhrm and placed her head in her lap. The elder princess, lacking the knowledge of how to help her sister, simply ran her fingers through her hair until the younger princess eventually decided that she couldn’t pretend to be unconscious anymore, stirred, and groaned as she tried to sit up.

“Hello,” she said weakly. “No one told me you were here.”

Sophia chuckled softly and blamed her appearance on their mother. The queen had ordered both Sophia and Eliana, the middle of the three sisters, to arrive as soon as possible to ensure Alaidhrm’s participation in any marriage opportunity. It seemed the event was to happen whether the youngest princess consented to it or not.

“Has Eliana arrived yet?” Alaidhrm asked, still pretending to be woozy.

“Not that I know of, but she will soon enough. I can assure you of that. Not even Eliana would disobey a direct order from the queen.”

Alaidhrm stared at the floor and considered if she had the strength to drive her sister’s head into it. The sooner Eliana appeared, the less likely it was that there would be a potential loophole to get out of this marriage. She hoped, in the nicest way possible, that some tragic incident befell her.

“If you were truly desperate,” Sophia started, breaking Alaidhrm’s chain of thought. She looked behind her in the direction where the servant boy had fled and grinned. “You could always marry Daniel.”

“Who?” Alaidhrm asked, pretending she hadn’t heard the servant give his name a few minutes earlier.

“A servant boy who has ‘made his intentions known’,” Sophia replied sarcastically.

The younger princess laughed loudly.

“He has strength, at least!” Sophia continued. “And is loyal. You think I carried you all this way?”

Alaidhrm sighed and thought about the fact that she was now ‘out’ in society. All it would take for her to be considered a married woman was a man with enough of a death wish to flirt with the queen and with enough political influence that the king would consider him worthy. Being a somewhat decent person who Alaidhrm could at least deal with for the rest of her life had even less consideration than the gentleman’s wealth or land, if any at all. Maybe a servant who offered her escape from the overly enthusiastic Lord Whitewood was worth considering.

“I am sure it is treasonous even thinking about this,” Alaidhrm muttered.

“If it helps, I doubt his kindness has much to do with his head and more to do with another part of his anatomy,” Sophia teased as she used her sister’s head to help her stand.

Alaidhrm groaned and held her face in her hands. If Sophia had thought to look back as she returned to court, she would have seen her sister instantly lose all colour from her face and start shaking as if feverish.

“I dread to think what you are implying,” Alaidhrm said, trying to keep her voice even.

The younger princess received no reply but laughter as her sister practically sashayed away.

“Correct in one, sister,” Sophia thought. “But soon, you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel = Daniel Furlong
> 
> Because I’ve only seen Daniel in whichever show he appears in at 13, I know nothing about his personality and so the character will be made to fit the story and won’t be based on him. It will be him in name only, basically.


	2. Scorn Not His Simplicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! And thank you to the few people who have read this. Or even accidentally clicked on it and immediately regretted their life decisions. Either option I fully appreciate.
> 
> In any case, all comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.
> 
> \- Mirella xx
> 
> WARNING - More strangulation in this chapter. I apologise. I don’t know why I keep writing it in. I promise it is not a motif in my work.

The next morning, Alaidhrm groaned at being woken by a spear of sunlight hitting her face. A telltale snort of laughter from the other side of the room told her who was responsible for opening the usually closed curtains. So, in the spirit of being nowhere near ready to get out of bed, she rolled onto her side and threw her arm over her eyes.

“What do you want, Neilan?” she muttered.

“The king wants you,” he stated bluntly. “Now.” 

Alaidhrm sighed and slowly rolled over to her other side, glaring at her brother. Physically, he was in every way the epitome of a prince: tall, handsome, and had sparkling eyes. Sadly, he was also in every way the epitome of a first born heir and so was especially arrogant, rude, and made her skin crawl.

Neilan, as if sensing his sister’s discomfort, ran a hand through his hair and smoldered at her. She groaned and rolled her eyes in return.

“Julianne?”

Upon hearing her cue, the unfortunate maid scheduled for the morning appeared from a hidden door in the wall. Making the deadly mistake of not noticing the prince, she curtsied solely to Alaidhrm.

“Princess?”

A low growl rumbled in the corner. The maid whipped her head around and finally noticed the elephant in the room. A little dazed, she tried to recover herself and crossed the room to where the prince was standing. Taking his proffered hand, she performed her most sincere curtsy. Neilan, apparently not satisfied with her non-spoken apology and with reflexes much like his father’s, whipped one hand round the maid’s neck and thrust her against the wall. Her hands uselessly clawed at his arm as she squealed to be released.

“Do you think you can disrespect your king so blatantly?”

Alaidhrm instantly jumped out of bed and ran across the room to defend her maid. 

“You will never be our king!” she screamed.

At the time, she had only intended to grab the back of his neck to pull him away but, instead, an energy seemed to propel itself from the palm of her hand and cause his body to convulse under her touch. He fell to the floor as if having a seizure. You could see the veins on his neck struggle to burst free from the confines of his skin and his face became a patchwork of blue, red, and purple. His mouth, open as if silently screaming, was frothing and drool dribbled down his chin. The princess screamed and jumped backwards in terror, staring at her hands as if they were foreign objects.

“Princess!” the maid cried.

Julianne ran towards her mistress and clasped her hands in her own. Alaidhrm, blind with fear, tore herself from her maid’s grasp and fled from the room, sprinting into the hallway and towards the throne room. Tears were streaming down her face as she charged at the guards blocking the door. They wisely chose to step aside as she flung the doors open and interrupting court, pushed through the sea of nobility and threw herself at her father’s feet, babbling incoherently. 

The king was surprised to say the least, but quick to rush from his throne and envelop his daughter in his arms. He looked behind him, past the look of pure outrage on the queen’s face, to Eliana and Sophia who, taking the hint, unburdened their father and escorted their hysterical sister to private chambers. 

Once away from the circus of court, Sophia took Alaidhrm in her arms and, sitting on her father’s chair, held Alaidhrm like a small child, rocking her until her breathing levelled and she could form sentences without choking on her own tears. The two older princesses had no idea what was happening, but had inadvertently jumped into the middle of huge conflict and were impatient to gather details. Eliana was the first to crack.

“What the hell was that about, Alaidhrm?” she hissed.

Alaidhrm looked from sister to sister before shaking her head silently. There was no use in trying to explain; she didn’t even understand herself. She removed herself from her sister’s arms and ran to the nearest wall, collapsing against it. 

“Please?” Sophia begged softly. “It has been eons since we were last here. We get to escape the family dramas now.”

“Speak for yourself,” Eliana said dryly. 

Alaidhrm smiled slightly. Her sisters weren’t fighting as they always used to. It was a rarity. So, in the spirit of their apparent newfound friendship, she nodded.

The older sisters giggled and sat either side of their younger counterpart, braiding their legs together. If the Queen had observed them during that moment, she would have been moved at the sight of her three daughters bonding as they hadn't done since childhood. Moved enough, perhaps, to forgive the youngest princess’s recent seemingly habitual disruptions of court.

Alaidhrm took a few steadying breaths and was about to attempt to wrap her head around what had happened when the door to the chamber suddenly crashed open and the king and queen, followed by an unknown guest, walked into the room.

The three sisters jumped to their feet in unison and attempted to organise themselves. Sophia, quickly realising that her younger sister was still only in her nightgown, pulled Alaidhrm behind her. She elbowed Eliana who, also realising Alaidhrm’s state of undress, offered her cloak to her. Once she was as presentable as she ever would be, Alaidhrm moved to stand next to her sisters.

The queen took in each of her daughter’s appearance in turn and almost growled at the appearance of her youngest. Alaidhrm’s nightgown was very form-fitting and the cloak, although covering everything important, left no mystery as to exactly how little she was wearing.

“May I present my three daughters, sir?” the queen forced through gritted teeth.

The man was tall and slim, but seemed to fill his overly new clothes in a way that stretched them across his body. He stood with his legs far apart, shoulders back, chest out, and chin up: the picture of dominance and arrogance. He seemed highly amused at the situation before him and nodded in answer to the queen as he raked his eyes up and down Alaidhrm’s form.

“My eldest, Princess Sophia MacDurcan.”

Sophia curtsied respectfully as the stranger nodded his head vaguely in her direction. He still seemed to be appreciating every part of Alaidhrm except for her face. Alaidhrm not-so-subtly cleared her throat and he seemed to jump to attention, turning to face Sophia. Leering at the eldest princess, he grabbed her left hand and slowly leant forward to kiss her wedding ring. The implication of an affair between the two hung heavy in the air with the action. Alaidhrm almost appreciated the fact that he had the gall to look offended when Sophia ripped her hand from his grasp and stepped away from him. At least he was consistent.

“My second daughter, Princess Eliana Ó’Braonáin, formally of the Whelan family.”

Eliana gasped at the introduction and stared at her mother with tears suddenly forming in her eyes. Her former husband had passed away not even a year ago. It was bad enough that his family seemed to blame her for the incident. Now, her own blood saw fit to ignore the marriage entirely and introduce her by her maiden name. If she hadn't been called to attend her sister’s wedding, she would have been more suspicious of the introduction. She hung her head in shame, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, and curtsied to the new arrival. 

A strange sense of humanity seemed to dawn on the unknown guest as he glared at the queen in outrage. The man looked at the princess and sighed at seeing her head hung so low. He grasped her chin in his hand and forced her to look into his eyes. Satisfied, he placed his handkerchief into her shaking hands. 

“Eventually princess,” he said softly, “the loss will make you stronger.”

Eliana gave only a small smile in response. Alaidhrm glared at the stranger. This was not the man that had offended her elder sister thirty seconds ago. Why his façade would crack at the mention of the Whelan family was beyond her. The queen simply raised an eyebrow at the interaction. She continued to introduce her daughters.

“My youngest daughter, Princess Alaidhrm Ó’Braonáin.”

Alaidhrm followed etiquette and curtsied like her sisters before her, but otherwise remained blank. This man had shown polar opposites in terms of personality and had restarted his now favourite pastime of staring at her body. She was in no way prepared to make the first move. It appeared, however, that he was. He spoke.

“It is an honour to meet you all,” he said, smiling at each of the sisters in turn. “My name is Master Húighéid of Ana Driterra, a gentleman of the court of Calais.”

The short introduction did little but confirm Alaidhrm’s worst fears. This man was her betrothed. Not a king, nor prince, nor lord, nor member of nobility who might have had some responsibility to her father to treat her well. No, he was a self-exalted commoner who was probably a twenty-third cousin of the King of Ana Driterra riding high on being His Majesty’s flavour of the month. She looked at her two sisters for support, but was found wanting as Sophia was glaring at the man like she wanted to rip his head off and Eliana was looking at him as if he was an angel sent from heaven above. It was typical of her sisters to disagree on the topic of men. Alaidhrm decided she needed to fend for herself. 

“The honour is all ours, sir,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I can only humbly apologise for my nakedness and beg you for your forgiveness.”

The king struggled to hide his laughter, but knew unless he stopped his daughter’s sharp wit, his wife would do it for him and make the situation so many times worse.

“Alaidhrm. If you have finished flattering our guest, please escort him to your chambers. I suspect some privacy will be needed.”

Alaidhrm’s heart stopped as she stared at her father. Her mind could be heard ticking as she tried to comprehend what was being asked of her. She glanced at the queen and was greeted with the smile of someone who had just gained a personal victory. She considered questioning the order, but knew she had heard correctly. 

“No time like the present, Alaidhrm,” the queen sing-songed.

Having no words to respond with, the young princess simply curtsied to her parents. She shrugged her sister’s cloak from her shoulders and dropped it on the floor, silently thanking Eliana, but cursing the man she had once again bared herself to. As she started walking towards the exit, she glanced behind her to see whether Master Húighéid had decided to follow. She saw him bob his head quickly to her sisters and then pay full reverence to her parents. A sly smirk appeared on his face as he started walking in her direction. Alaidhrm struggled to not outwardly shudder at his behaviour. Trying to convince herself that it was only the rest of her life wasn’t helping. 

The man quickly fell in step with Alaidhrm and after exiting the room, walked in uncomfortable silence. When they reached the corridor leading to her chambers, she felt a hesitant hand on her upper arm. She whipped around to face him and was going to pull herself away when she gasped at what she saw. Gone was the arrogant and dominant persona that had filled the princess with dread a few moments ago. Now all she saw was a face full of kindness and eyes that shone with sorrow. His clothes seemed far too big for his tall and lean frame and his stature was almost submissive. 

“Are you okay?” she asked suspiciously. 

“You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Alaidhrm struggled to not roll her eyes, but the dramatic sigh that escaped was hardly more polite.

“With all due respect, sir, I think it is fairly obvious who you are. Unless I am very much mistaken.”

This time, it was Master Húighéid’s turn to sigh.

“No, Your Majesty. The issue is, I’m not your betrothed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julianne = Julianne Reilly
> 
> Again, I know nothing about her in real life, so the character will just evolve as it needs to evolve. My apologies.


	3. Atmos, Druids, Deus Meus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.
> 
> \- Mirella xx
> 
> No warnings - yay!

A man sat on a ledge on the back of an old caravan, endlessly tossing a silver coin in his hand. The coin had been stolen from a village across the nearby river and promised greater treasure should the man ever return. He flipped the coin especially high and huffed when it slipped through his fingers and fell to the ground. It lay there, ignored. A beam of sunlight hit its surface and attempted to attract the man’s attention. He shook his head and the sunlight went away. It wasn’t worth stooping for. The man’s focus went back to his surroundings.

All around him was the forest he called home. It was ancient, like himself, and would exist long after his story had ended. In his weaker moments, the man worried that his story would be forgotten. His destiny was long and complicated. One mistake and everything he had fought for would be destroyed. He had already lost so much. Too much.

The sound of a twig snapping behind him brought him back to the present. He jumped from his seat and landed, poised and ready to attack. The next second seemed to last for an eternity before a wave of energy emerged from the trees and the man was thrown backwards. He skidded on his back and felt his skin being grazed from the rough forest floor. He thrashed against the energy wave, trying to get up, but the weight of it seemed to hold his body down. 

As he struggled, he felt the energy circle around his wrists and ankles, effectively holding him to the ground. Gasping for air, the weight on his chest eased slightly and travelled upwards to his head. A sense of calm took over him as the man slowly let his body submit. He relaxed his body and felt the energy pressing against his mind, almost as if asking permission to enter. He hadn’t knowingly given consent, but something in him must have changed as suddenly he could hear the screams of what sounded like a young girl. He cried out in shared torment with the sound ringing in his ears. He started fighting against his invisible bonds as the feeling of absolute terror wrecked his body.

As quickly as it had gripped him, though, the energy suddenly released his body and left him scrambling on the ground for his wits. A single word drifted through his mind, like the last second of a nightmare before it is forgotten upon waking. _Princess_. Panting, he slowly sat up and looked around him. The forest seemed undisturbed. He opened his hand to test that his imaginary restraints had gone and nearly jumped out of his skin when the coin that lay under the caravan flew into his open palm. Gasping as if suddenly burnt, he threw it away from him. Staring in astonishment at the coin, he slowly reopened his hand and cried out as the coin returned to it. He imagined the coin floating in front of his face and sat amazed when slowly, shakily, it began to adhere to his wishes. Something long forgotten started to stir within him as the feeling of pure power coursed through him. 

The ancient being stretched its weary body. Its joints popped and muscles pulled as it moved properly for the first time in what felt like eons. The man stood and basked in the feeling. The return of his power could only mean one thing. The prophecy had begun.


	4. Dúlamán

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alaidhrm’s morning only gets worse after waking up on the wrong side of the bed... literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.
> 
> \- Mirella xx
> 
> No warnings this time - yay!

Alaidhrm saw only red as she started sprinting towards her bedchambers. Master Húighéid had no option but to suddenly break into a run if he wished to follow the seething princess. 

“Your Majesty…” he started to explain.

All he received in return was a feral growl as she spun on her heel and, grabbing his shoulder, slammed his body into the wall of the corridor. She stared at him, taking in his features; they were an enigma within themselves. She couldn’t decide whether his eyes were blue or green and his hair seemed to be warring about whether to be a rusty brown or dark blonde. 

“Your Majesty…” he tried again.

Alaidhrm shook her head to silence him.

“Look,” she started. “Whoever you are. I am not my father or brother; I will not hurt you, but I need you to tell me who you are!”

Master Húighéid nodded slowly and swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“Your Majesty…”

“Thomas!”

Alaidhrm inwardly groaned at the interruption from the foreign voice and dropped her head onto Master Húighéid’s chest in frustration. A man emerged from the door of her chambers and ran towards them. He looked warily at the princess, but then averted his eyes as if protecting his modesty. Realising the position she was in – her having a man pressed against a wall with her head against his chest while being in her nightgown – she released him and held her hands up in mock surrender, backing away slowly. The stranger glanced at the man now resting against the wall and an entire conversation seemed to occur silently in those few moments. An apparent consensus was made between them and Master Húighéid bowed deeply to the man and moved to stand behind him.

“My name is Emmet Cahill, Crown Prince of Ana Driterra, and this is my man, Thomas,” the stranger said, turning back to Alaidhrm. “Please allow me to explain the grievous wrong that has been committed against you.”

Alaidhrm stared at the pair. A piercing headache had started to spike and every thought process seemed to make it worse. She rubbed her palm against her forehead in the hope it would somehow help. It didn’t.

“This morning has been far from my finest.”

The prince nodded as if he understood.

“Alaidhrm… may I call you Alaidhrm? I fear you have been the victim of a major misunderstanding. Please allow me to escort you to your chambers where I can explain everything in full and in private.”

The princess looked at him with extreme scepticism but hesitantly held out her arm for him to take. Thomas respectfully bowed to the pair and raced ahead of them to open the doors to Alaidhrm’s chambers. The contrast in his behaviour had the princess reeling, but it was a welcome change. 

Upon entering her chambers, the Prince, like a true gentleman, removed himself from Alaidhrm’s arm and placed his hand on the small of her back, leading her to the lounge. Once she had seated herself, he stepped away and walked to the opposite lounge, waiting until she had made herself comfortable before sitting himself. Thomas went to stand behind the Prince and bowed his head slightly to Alaidhrm before standing to attention. 

Still suffering a splitting headache, the princess called for a maid. She hoped that some kind of spirit would appear and tell her that this was all some kind of twisted nightmare but, when reality continued on its sordid path, she simply dismissed her before turning back to the men in front of her.

“I believe this is where you start explaining, Your Majesty,” she said.

“Emmet, please,” he replied.

Alaidhrm nodded.

“I think I need some information from you first, if I may. How long have you been ‘out’ in society? I mean, when were you announced to your court?”

The princess smiled thinly. “Yesterday.”

Emmet tried his best to keep a calm expression on his face, but Thomas’s suddenly panicked eyes told Alaidhrm that this was not the correct answer.

“Well,” Emmet said, “that resolves quite a few issues on my part; I will do my best to explain. Three months ago I was called by my father for a private meeting. He revealed to me that his health was starting to fail him and he wanted to see me married and settled before he passed. He had apparently been speaking with Her Majesty the Queen, your mother, who told him you had already been proclaimed and they were sorting through proposals. My father offered me to your mother and she accepted. Terms were negotiated between the two and I announced our betrothal personally in my kingdom over a month ago. We received word that the same announcement had been made in Airgíalla a few days later.

“I came here today to officially stake Ana Driterra’s interests in Airgíalla and claim your promised hand so we could begin wedding preparations. Although, judging by your earlier reaction to Thomas, there seemed to be a slight error in your understanding of who your betrothed was.”

Alaidhrm scowled at the last comment and rose from her lounge, pacing in front of it. She couldn’t decide whether she had been given too much or too little information, but either way she was struggling to process it. She tried to think positively about the situation, but couldn’t help but feel insulted at the prince’s explanation. 

“Is that all this is to you? An interest? I hope you realise that we are not negotiating the exchange of cattle here.”

Emmet shifted on the lounge. When he offered no further explanation, Alaidhrm continued.

“Also, I deny any responsibility for what happened in the corridor. I was introduced to court yesterday with no warning from my parents. The next day I am summoned and a supposedly highly important man from Ana Driterra is waiting for me who I am then told to bring to my bedchambers. On the journey to my chambers, the same man changes personalities completely and tells me he is not my betrothed. If there is another logical reaction to the circumstances, I’d love to hear it!”

Alaidhrm collapsed back onto her lounge, out of breath, and rested her head in her hands.

“Your Majesty, if I may.”

The Prince glanced at Thomas and nodded. The man walked around to where the pair were sitting and stood between them.

“In the eyes of their Majesties, I was playing the part of the princess’s betrothed whether I wanted to or not. All three princesses were sure they knew who I was and the King and Queen did nothing to correct them. The princess was little short of forced to bring me to her bedchambers with the implication of Master Húighéid essentially forcing himself on her. They knew that it rightly terrified her and they did nothing to stop it. I wish I was in any way exaggerating, sir.”

The Prince was stunned into silence. His plan had been entirely different. Thomas had been working for Emmet for many years and in the Prince’s mind was more than his official position as a servant. He considered him a friend and companion despite the fact that he was still payed for his services by the palace. In this situation, like many before it, Thomas was to be introduced to the court, the royal family, and to Alaidhrm as an intermediary – a line of defence between the prince and any complaints about the marriage. Giving him the fake title of Master Húighéid served as an allowance to use Thomas as an aid where a mere companion would never be allowed.

Master Húighéid was intentionally distasteful. It did occasionally bring Emmet’s own character into question through association, but it worked to scare off most people who approached Thomas simply to challenge his credentials or test his relationship with the prince. The fact that the Queen had spent the last couple of months lying to Emmet’s father about Alaidhrm’s knowledge of the marriage had destroyed any good intention of introducing Alaidhrm to Master Húighéid before Emmet. The fact that the young princess had assumed that Thomas was her future husband only made the situation infinitely worse.

“I think I am beginning to see where this has gone wrong,” the prince said, slowly.

Alaidhrm groaned. “I feel as though I am more lost than I was before I met either of you and, believe me, that is some achievement.”

Emmet chuckled slightly and gestured for Thomas to sit next to him.

“Would your confusion explain why you rushed into court in your...” He cleared his throat. “Current state?” Thomas asked softly.

Alaidhrm sighed and nodded slowly. “It almost seems intentional now that I experience the joy of meeting my future husband in my current state of undress. We would have to get used to seeing each other like this eventually, I suppose.”

The prince nodded hesitantly and was about to answer when the princess held her hand up to continue speaking. He quickly snapped his mouth shut and gestured for her to do so.

“But, in saying that, I am afraid I will have to leave this here. I am not the swooning type, let me assure you, but I fear unless I rest soon, I may have to prove myself a liar. I am assuming there is some kind of event tonight in your honour so no doubt we will need to be bright eyed, bushy tailed, and far too infatuated with each other considering we met minutes ago. I would hope you do not need me to show you to the door, so if you will excuse me.”

Emmet and Thomas simultaneously jumped to their feet and bowed their heads respectfully as Alaidhrm stood and exited through her bedroom door. Looking at each other, they exchanged a lopsided smile. It seemed to say, “Well that could have gone worse.” Thomas patted the Prince on the arm and the two left the princess’s chambers, satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emmet = Emmet Cahill
> 
> Emmet Cahill is an obvious inclusion despite not being in Storm. He’s always seemed like a natural Prince Charming to me. No? Just me... fine then.


	5. Brothers In Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill by now; all comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.
> 
> \- Mirella xx
> 
> No warnings - yay!

Alaidhrm let out a huge sigh of relief as she heard the mens’ footsteps slowly fade and her chamber door click shut. She groaned as she slid her back down the wall until she landed on the floor. She curled up into a ball, perfectly happy to stay in this position forever. She wanted to destroy everything and scream into the ether, but was terrified of hurting someone else.

She couldn’t comprehend what she had done to her brother. Killed him, most likely. There was no way she could cover up it was her. No doubt Julianne had run for the hills. She didn’t blame her. It was known that only the truly evil had power such as this. Evil like the people her father had spent the better part of his reign eradicating. They were all supposed to be dead, though. The king had bragged for years about how his kingdom was free of the gypsies that possessed so-called black magic. Alaidhrm hoped this was just some kind of horrible accident or else she would be spending her last moments suffering horribly at the hands of the royal executioner.

The princess also thought about her upcoming marriage. She supposed that if it was found she possessed evil, then no one would even want her alive, let alone want to marry her. Who would want to marry the apparent spawn of hell? Also, how did the Queen plan all this? If she had been betrothed to Emmet for months, why announce that they were accepting betrothal? Why not just announce the engagement? Did the King know about this before yesterday? Is this what the Queen was whispering to him as she was ambushed by elderly Lords? Alaidhrm doubted she would like the answer to any of her questions, that is, if they were ever answered in the first place. Tears threatened to overflow from her eyes when a slight creak of a door told her that someone had entered her room.

Before her stood the newest maid to be assigned to her. She was a tiny, lithe creature who was so pure and innocent that a small part of Alaidhrm’s heart broke every time she saw her. Her name was Hayley and although she was a couple of years older than Alaidhrm, she could easily fool anyone into thinking she was younger than her. So much so that even the young princess occasionally felt a need to protect her from the horrors of the world. The reality was that in any case of danger, it was definitely Hayley who would be protecting the princess. The instinct to protect went both ways in their relationship.

“Your Majesty,” Hayley said, curtsying.

Alaidhrm sighed and sat up, patting a space on the floor next to her. A look of worry crossed the maid’s face, but she quickly nodded and moved to sit next to her mistress. The princess shifted closer to Hayley and she instinctively wrapped her arms around her.

The news of the prince had, naturally, spread through the servants’ ranks like wildfire, although it was likely that by the time it had reached the lower echelons of the palace whatever had actually happened had been massively dramatised. No doubt the highest ranked workers would be using their position to get as close to the royal family as possible and, therefore, get as much information as possible. All Hayley had heard was that the prince had been in the princess’s chambers when she suddenly ran out screaming and he was discovered a few minutes later unconscious on the floor. No one knew what happened, and she doubted that her mistress would be saying much to her.

Alaidhrm sighed, interrupting the maid’s chain of thought. The princess struggled to her feet and dramatically flopped herself in front of her dresser. Hayley smiled and went to stand behind her, reaching for the hairbrush to her right.

“What are they saying?” Alaidhrm whispered.

“Nothing specific, Your Majesty. Nothing about you,” Hayley replied, beginning to brush the princess’s hair. 

“What _are_ they saying, then?”

“I haven’t heard much, Your Majesty. As far as I know, everyone is still scrambling to find out what happened.”

Alaidhrm stared hard at herself in the mirror and forced an indifferent expression onto her face. She physically steeled herself before turning to her maid. 

“Help me dress, would you?”

Hayley smiled softly and nodded. She went to the wardrobe and picked out a dress she thought appropriate. It was predominantly green and black which was suitable for mourning, but also had gold accents which helped to lift it into being acceptable to wear formally. Whatever the circumstances with the prince, the princess would be prepared. 

“Would you like the full cavalry, Your Majesty?”

Alaidhrm looked up from criticising her reflection in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

Hayley held back a knowing smile as she banged twice on the wall behind her and the rest of the princess’s maids appeared from a door dressed in ladies’ half mourning colours. Alaidhrm gasped and started crying, but they were tears of happiness. 

When she turned thirteen, and was no longer classed as a child, she needed to employ lady’s maids rather than rely on her parents or nannies to maintain her. It was also expected that she would select a retinue of ladies from the court to accompany her on official business. Instead of spending months recruiting young daughters of her father’s peers, Alaidhrm decided to use her newly hired maids and pass them off as childhood friends. The charade worked and meant that the princess could actually socialise with the people closest to her, rather than just relying on their loyalty in service. 

Seeing her maids dressed as ladies with the pure intent of being emotional support for when Alaidhrm had to face what she had done to her brother made her heart sour and she jumped to envelop them in hugs. 

Hayley smiled, but quickly separated her mistress from the group to dress her. Once the princess was ready, everyone moved into formation and left as a group to discover the fate of Neilan Ó’Braonáin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hayley = Hayley-Jo Murphy
> 
> Same as usual. Her character will develop as it’s necessary.


	6. Seasons in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alaidhrm begins to deal with the consequences of her actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.
> 
> \- Mirella xx
> 
> No warnings - yay!

Once the group had reached Neilan’s rooms, Hayley - still dressed in her maids’ uniform - ran ahead to alert the King and Queen of Alaidhrm’s arrival. It became clear by the crowd that was standing in the hallway that the princess wouldn’t be able to bring her ladies in with her. The maids muttered words of encouragement under their breaths until Hayley reappeared and nodded. Alaidhrm took a few seconds to smooth the creases in her skirt before leaving the safety of the group and walking into her brother’s room.

Immediately she was greeted by the sight of Julianne sobbing at the foot of Neilan’s bed. Her heart went out to her and she longed to join her on the floor to comfort her, but duty dictated that she pay full reverence to her brother and his grieving wife, acknowledge her parents, and then stand with her sisters. The room was organised by rank and relationship. A formal gathering like this meant that Neilan was moments away from death. Alaidhrm paled at the thought that she would be held responsible. 

A small cough sounded from the back of the room, breaking the morbid silence. Turning, the princess was surprised to see Emmet and Thomas leaning against the back wall writing in a small notebook. She tapped Sophia on the arm and gestured with her head behind her. It was tradition that again dictated that she ask permission of the oldest in her grouping to leave. Prince Lawrence MacDurcan, Sophia’s husband, glanced behind him and scoffed at the men. Obviously her sister had been quick to inform him of Thomas’s behaviour towards her that morning. The elder princess rolled her eyes, but nodded. Alaidhrm silently thanked her sister and walked to where they were standing. Emmet, upon seeing her approaching, quickly flicked a few pages forward in the book so that she couldn’t see their previous conversation. Thomas had to hold in his laughter at her pointed glare. Alaidhrm snatched the notebook and quill from the pair.

_What are you doing here?_

She handed the book back and waited for Emmet to write his response.

_We were invited by your father._

The princess scowled.

_In what capacity?_

_Both, I presume._

Emmet showed Alaidhrm his response before signalling that he wanted to keep writing.

_As Crown Prince of Ana Driterra, I have the power to ensure succession. As your betrothed, I can give the appearance of supporting you to the crowd outside who do not know that we are betrothed._

Thomas, reading over the Prince’s shoulder, decided to take the quill from him.

_Can you tell us what happened? Julianne hasn’t said anything._

Emmet raised an eyebrow. Thomas shook his head as he had to mouth “her maid” to clarify who Julianne was. Alaidhrm sighed at the interaction and at his message in the notebook. 

_Not in here. Too many people. Pretend I am inconsolable. Take me into the next room and I will tell you everything._

The pair read the princess’s writing before she caught Thomas’s eye and nodded. She took a minute to stare with wide eyes at the wall in front of her and soon started to release the tears she had desperately been trying to hold in. Her sobbing was loud enough to disturb the room. When Emmet’s gaze started darting around, Alaidhrm knew that all eyes were on her so she fell forward into Thomas’s chest.

“My apologies,” the Prince muttered as he quickly ushered his two companions into the next room.

As they entered Neilan’s lounge room, a few servants who had snuck in to listen quickly ran away, giving privacy to the trio. The door clicked shut behind them and Alaidhrm removed herself from Thomas’s embrace. She refused to acknowledge the feeling of loss after being held against his warm body. The princess instead decided to march to the opposite side of the room. 

“So?” Emmet demanded impatiently.

“Well, I am sorry,” Alaidhrm snapped. “I did not think it would be appropriate to speak ill of someone who is about to…”

More tears threatened to spill from the princess’s eyes. She squeezed them shut and took laboured breaths to stop herself from repeating the behaviour the prince had found so offensive a few seconds earlier.

“Why would you need to speak ill of your brother?” Thomas muttered.

“He attacked Julianne,” Alaidhrm stated. 

The men shared a quick glance. The princess, meanwhile, decided to tell the rest of her tale to the window. 

“Neilan was in my room when I woke up. He said he needed to escort me to court. No situation has ever called for such action. I was suspicious, so I refused to go with him. I called for a maid. Poor Julianne was scheduled. She greeted me as she normally would and made the mistake of not noticing my brother. She tried to make amends when she did, but he took offence. He threw her against the wall and started choking her. I swear, I only went to grab the back of his neck to drag him away...”

Alaidhrm paused, well aware that whatever she said next would be the official record of what happened. 

“I wish I had a better explanation. All I know is that he must have tripped or something because suddenly he was backwards head over heels. When his head hit the floor, he started to seizure. How could I know what to do? I was terrified that I had killed him. So I ran.

“I am sure Thomas has already filled you in on what happened a few moments later, Your Majesty,” Alaidhrm concluded, hanging her head in shame.

Behind her back, the two men silently argued over who should be the one to comfort the grieving princess. Emmet eventually lost and so hesitantly walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I hope you do not think that any of this is your fault, Princess,” he whispered.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

The Prince gently moved his hand down Alaidhrm’s arm until he held her hand. 

“Princess,” Thomas spoke.

At the warning tone in his voice, Alaidhrm pulled her hand from Emmet’s and turned. Thomas gestured behind him to where Eliana was standing in the doorway. The older princess simply dropped her head. It was time. The Prince and Thomas crossed themselves while the younger princess moved to join her sister. The pair left the men in silence. 

“Just follow the protocol,” Eliana reminded Alaidhrm. “Then you can leave. Try and stay strong.”

Alaidhrm nodded, but her feet had rooted themselves to the floor. She watched as her sister calmly left the room having already said goodbye to their brother. Looking around, she noticed that Julianne had gone and that everyone apart from Neilan’s wife, Lady Isabelle, and the King and Queen had left. The King looked moments away from falling apart and was heavily supported by the Queen. Even she looked upset.

Alaidhrm forced her feet to slowly walk to her brother’s bedside. She knelt in a praying position and took his right hand. Pressing her lips to his knuckles, she whispered.

“Please. Live.”

She looked at his face hoping that by some miracle that the magic that had decided to kill him also understood life. The Prince was a bastard as well as arrogant, pompous, and many things besides that Alaidhrm disliked, but he was her brother. It had taken her a long time as a child to understand the concept of a half-brother. Once she did, though, she immediately considered him a full member of the family and was often disheartened when he would treat her more as an acquaintance. It had taken a few years, but he eventually seemed to embrace their relationship although it was far from perfect. 

When it became apparent that Neilan’s face seemed content to stay pale and lifeless, Alaidhrm stood and slowly walked towards the door through which she had arrived. When she entered the crowded corridor, her ladies quickly moved to surround her and hurried to take the princess back to her chambers as Alaidhrm broke down amongst them.


	7. The Streets of London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments appreciated. Compliments, criticisms... even if you want me to fuck off. It's all fine.
> 
> \- Mirella xx
> 
> No warnings - yay!
> 
> UPDATE (20/01/19) - I’ve added an extra chapter between what were chapters two and three. Basically, there’s a new chapter three so every subsequent chapter has moved up one number. 
> 
> UPDATE (11/03/19) - Massive update made to chapter seven.

Later that afternoon, Alaidhrm sat curled in a ball on an extended windowsill in one of the towers of the castle. She had dressed in the colours of her family’s crest in preparation for the betrothal feast that night in the hope that her brother would miraculously survive. Her favourite book lay long forgotten by her feet as she stared blankly at the world beyond the horizon. 

“Princess?”

The princess turned to the voice and granted a small smile at the intruder. Thomas returned the favour.

“May I join you?”

Alaidhrm nodded and shifted herself closer to the window, giving the man as much room as she could to sit with her. Squeezing himself into the small space, he positioned himself so he was opposite her. He picked up the book by her feet and raised an eyebrow at her choice. 

“Some light reading, I see.”

The princess smiled fondly, loving it far too much to be offended at his comment. 

“It is my favourite play,” she defended herself. “I know every word back to front and have seen more productions of it than I can count. Even the worst performances have been almost enjoyable because I love it so much.”

Thomas chuckled and, letting the book fall open to a random page, began to read aloud. The passage was a promise between two lovers to stay true to each other, despite the fact that the man would be sailing away and not returning for another 63 years. Alaidhrm sighed and rested her head against the window. She wasn’t much one for romance, but hearing the words spoken aloud in Thomas’s low soft voice gave her chills. The memory of him holding her just a few hours earlier washed over her. 

“The Prince apologises for not coming himself. He said he was tired from our journey here and needed rest.”

It took Alaidhrm a few seconds to realise that Thomas had actually stopped reading and was now speaking to her. The princess silently chastised herself for letting her mind wander. She paused to allow herself to breathe.

“Are you not tired, Thomas?”

“Of course, Princess,” he answered simply. “But my duty is to serve the Prince and, as his betrothed, you. Your well-being comes long before mine.”

“What if I ordered you to rest?”

“Then I would obey your order until I was told to do otherwise.”

Alaidhrm sighed. “Is there not a punishment for lying to your mistress?”

Thomas’ eyes widened before a small smirk started pulling at his lips. 

“You know me too well, Princess.”

“No,” Alaidhrm snapped, whipping her head around to his direction. “I know nothing about you. Or the Prince. And yet I am expected to marry into your relationship.”

At the man’s confused expression, the princess let out another irritated sigh.

“You think I failed to notice how you interacted with the Prince? If you are a mere servant, then I am the Queen of Airgíalla.”

Thomas bit his bottom lip and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Honestly, Princess. Officially and legally I am a servant. I am payed by the palace to serve the Prince. But, in his mind, I have not been a servant for some time. He stopped me completing any of my assigned duties and dresses and treats me like a gentleman. I still serve him, but more as a messenger, or confidant, or – dare I say it – friend.”

A quick glance to the side told him that Alaidhrm was seemingly more interested in the contents of her lap. 

“I hope I have not offended you, Princess.”

A solemn silence followed. Thomas realised that there was more to it when Alaidhrm sobbed and tried to cover it by coughing. 

“I’m sorry, Princess. I haven’t heard anything new.”

Alaidhrm silently nodded her head before turning away from him and curling back into a ball. Thomas could see her body shaking and knew she was crying. 

“Do you think they would let me see him?” the princess squeaked. 

“That’s up to Lady Isabelle now.”

Thomas thought he could see Alaidhrm slightly nod her head. “Would you like me to take you to see him?”

Alaidhrm turned back to face him and the extent of her crying became clear.

“Would you?”

“Of course, Princess.”

A whisper of a smile graced the Princess’s face as she waited for Thomas to remove himself from the windowsill. Reaching for her hand, he helped her to stand but kept her hand in his and kissed the back of it. Alaidhrm gasped at the gesture. The man smiled sadly before linking her arm in his. 

A comfortable silence fell over the pair until they reached the corridor of Neilan’s chambers where Alaidhrm suddenly slowed her pace. 

“What can I do for you, Princess?” Thomas whispered kindly.

Alaidhrm removed her arm from his and turned to face him. In stark contrast to their initial meeting and without a shade of sarcasm, the princess curtsied deeply. Standing with a newfound resolute expression, a cursory nod was her parting gift as she suddenly turned and rushed to her brother’s door.

Opening and closing it as silently as she could, she leaned against it for a moment, looking around his bedroom. Expecting to see Lady Isabelle still by the prince’s bedside, Alaidhrm was surprised to see the room barren of all belongings and people. A wave of nausea rolled over the princess at the implication. She rushed further into the room and spied a note on the pillow of the bed. Recognising the handwriting as her sister-in-law’s, she broke the wax seal and sat on the bed to read it.

_ For the immediate attention of Alaidhrm Ó’Braonáin. _

_My dear Alaidhrm,_

_This day has not been your finest but, for that, no one can blame you. I know you must feel responsible for your brother’s injury. Rest assured that his seizures were out of your control. You did nothing to cause them and you could not have prevented them. Please remember this._

_I doubt anyone will try to explain to you all that has happened today – they will be far too distracted with preparations for your upcoming wedding – but someone must._

_Your maid, the lovely Julianne, came to me this morning in tears. The poor woman could hardly string two words together so she eventually just dragged me to your chambers. You experienced the horror for yourself so I need not describe what I saw when I got there. I am surprised you could not hear my screams from the throne room. Guards quickly rushed in and took Neilan to his chambers. Healers, doctors, priests… anyone who could possibly help your brother was summoned. They all proved useless._

_I asked often for your whereabouts. You caused quite the commotion in court, it seems. Quite right, in my opinion. I heard you were removed by your sisters, so you would have missed what happened next. Master Húighéid was introduced as representing Prince Emmet. Your betrothal to the Prince was announced to much joy, so I was told. Court was then cut short. It was rumoured your introduction to Master Húighéid did not go well. Hear me, Alaidhrm, when I say that it is in your best interests to befriend him. Making an enemy of the only person trusted enough by the Prince to be here would be a devastating mistake. Befriend him, for your sake._

_Soon after court had finished, Neilan’s chambers were full of people. I stayed as close to Julianne as I could. Everyone who is anyone came through to tell me they were sorry and wished your brother a speedy recovery. It hardly seems genuine when three-hundred people tell you exactly the same thing. I wished for your company so much._

_The King and Queen arrived and thankfully threw everyone out. Your father demanded a wake. With every attempt to revive Neilan proving a failure, I can understand his want to mourn sooner rather than later. Tonight is all about you, after all._

_This is where I must apologise, my dear Alaidhrm. I will not be there with you celebrating your betrothal. After the wake, I pulled the Queen aside and asked permission to take my husband to the mainland for care. My father is ill himself and I have long neglected my duty as his heir. Forgive me, I purposely knew she would jump at the opportunity to be rid of us. The King would only have refused. Two birds, one stone. My marriage to Neilan was a fanciful distraction from my duty. Since I am no longer in line to be Queen, I must return to reality._

_I pray the doctors on the mainland can heal your brother but, if not, you must face the truth. It is known you opposed your brother as your father’s heir. Your dream of your sister becoming the rightful Queen will be realised and the need, via the threat of the Prince’s reign, to marry you to the first available prince will have vanished. Consider your options carefully, they will shape every part of your future._

_I know not why Neilan was in your chambers this morning, Alaidhrm. He was bound for court at the usual time. He was not asked to escort you. It is a mystery which may die with him. Do not dwell on this point, though. It will do nothing but agonise you moving forward._

_Please forgive me for leaving so suddenly. I wish to see you again, but know this is impossible. Hold me in your memories, if you can. I look forward to hearing what becomes of you._

_All my love._

_Your humble servant,_

_Lady Isabelle Leighton_

Alaidhrm groaned and lay back on the bed. She knew that getting answers wouldn’t help settle her mind. It only sparked more questions, but one major question was causing her headache to return with a vengeance: what about Neilan’s potential reign was so dangerous that she needed to be married off to escape it, and why did his death free her of the obligation? She looked back over the letter. _Befriend him, for your sake._ A decision was made. She needed to talk to Thomas and Emmet. Now.


End file.
